


Just a little madness

by LittleLinor



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Zexal
Genre: Alternate Universe - Loveless Fusion, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 22:30:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16941912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleLinor/pseuds/LittleLinor
Summary: A set of keyship drabbles set in my loveless au





	1. Chapter 1

Yuuma’s hands are warm.  
It is, ironically enough, something you don’t remember experiencing before. There used to be a parent’s warmth in your life, at some point, probably, but it’s so far away you don’t remember it, not in the real, sensual way you can remember everything else: the cold nights, the hungry or disappointed voices, the training and the lessons it branded into every part of your body and consciousness.  
And as for your brother, well. You were always together, but if the two of you are indeed parts of a whole, then you were poured into different molds rather than one. There is nothing that fits in your broken angles, no comforting interface. No complementarity.   
He has always been there, but there was never any solace in his presence or contact. A strange kind of safety, at best.  
Ninety-six’s touch has never warmed you. It glides over your skin like everyone else’s, and makes you loathe contact as much as you crave it, and you bless the aura and reputation you eventually gain, that fends off everyone but him and some of the teachers.  
But Yuuma’s hands, when they take yours, are warm, and they do what no one else has done before: they take contact for its own sake. They make it feel like it’s enough.  
Over weeks, you find yourself squeezing back.

You are wary of him at first.  
That _easy_  warmth is naive and sheltered, and you haven’t forgotten that for all your skill, all your experience, fate still put you into his hand, to use as he wishes, to fail with when his unforged determination finally collides with reality. He is a liability, and one you wish you could do without. Especially if you have to  _wait_  for him to gather his courage to even kiss your cheek, as if you were actually yearning for  _that_ instead of waiting for him to get over it so you can step into battle.  
But Yuuma’s will, you come to realise, is strong in its own right. It isn’t cold and sharp like yours, shaped by years of hammering and, you sometimes fear, worryingly brittle, but powerful in its own way, unbroken. Yuuma’s will bends and warps but always stands again, weathering storms by letting them brush over him and shape him and coming out stronger. It is, in a strange way, unyielding, the driving force at its core his idea of never giving up, and you start to think that maybe that’s stronger than yours, that tries to cut through obstacles to reach one goal after another but has no real core of its own.  
“It’s what my father taught me,” he says with a little laugh, and that’s when you learn for sure that his parents are dead, and you think you understand a little better.

Yuuma’s warmth worms itself into your life.  
He obviously wasn’t built from the same material, but unlike Ninety-six, he molds himself to your sharp angles, wraps himself around them, makes them his home. You find it almost suffocating at times, after years of shutting down on yourself to avoid feeling others’ touch and its absence both, but whenever you start to lean on what used to be a sharp edge and find his presence cushioning you, what you feel is safety.  
For better or for worse, he is there, almost unconditionally, and you don’t know how to feel about how empty you feel when he leaves for weekends with his family.  
Apparently, it shows, because soon you are invited along.  
You hate it. You hate that he gives it without thinking, and that he could just as easily take it back. You hate that he takes your acceptance of him for granted.  
You find yourself relaxing into his warmth anyway. You don’t even have to lean on him. His presence is everywhere, after all.  
He laughs and you find yourself smiling back.

The first real kiss he gives you is short and surprisingly careful, the kind of action fed by days of hesitation but triggered only by strong impulsiveness. You’d held out your hand to him, as always, but instead of moving as usual he had looked at you, caught his breath for a second, and called your name.  
And then moved in, caught your hand in one of his own and your shoulder in the other, stood up on tiptoes, and pressed his lips to yours, breathing against them before remembering to move away.  
“… let’s win,” he whispers, making your words his own, and you nod and step forward, drunk on the rush of power the short contact has given you, on the strength of your bond no longer loosely tied.  
You have never felt as powerful as you do now, with your Sacrifice’s inextinguishable strength and belief at your back.  
(You win, as always)

The bond between you frays anyway.  
The more you care, the more you hate that you  _need_  him. The more you care, the less you want to involve him in the cold reality of your life.  
Being so powerful together only makes you feel nauseatingly powerless alone.  
You don’t need him, you tell yourself when you see him laughing with Kotori, with Mihael Arclight, with your  _brother_. You don’t need him, you think as the dark look and whispers that had always been directed at you come even louder, whenever you’re alone.  _You don’t need him_ , you repeat to yourself, teeth clenched, falling under the weight of Ninety-six’s spells, struggling to force out the words to fight back through the magic’s grip on your neck, and Vector, behind him, smirks at you, pathetic weapon with no aim and no hand to hold it.  
You lie on the ground, still feeling his pull and refusing to move, when his voice and footsteps crash into your senses, calling for you, and before you know it you’re pulled up and held tight, ears ringing with his voice as he screams to  _never do that again, idiot, never leave him behind again, isn’t he supposed to be your other half, it doesn’t matter who you’re fighting, he’s supposed to be there, he’s supposed to take it for you so you can fight at full power, what good is he otherwise, what can he even DO if he can’t even do something so simple for you_ , and you feel something in your heart break as he sobs into your bleeding shoulder, a sick sliver of pride and distrust melting into nothing and washing away.  
You don’t care about needing him anymore because you want him there. You want him there and smiling.

The first time you fight after this, it’s you who reaches for him first, slides your fingers into the back of his hair, palm against his cheek, you who bends down slightly to press your lips to his, your grip on his head gentle and firm and possessive.  
You brush your lips insistently to feel his stretch to follow them and then spring back, moist and barely open and warm. He sighs into it, and moves with you just a bit, and giggles when he feels you about to let go. You find yourself smiling, and his grin when you move back to look at him is bright and blinding and fills you with fire.  
“Astral…”  
Your cheeks are warm with the strain of muscles you didn’t even know you had.  
“Let’s win.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's a consistent pov

The box is small and black and generally inconspicuous, and Yuuma manages to draw Astral’s attention to it anyway by almost dropping it three times with how much he’s fiddling with it. Before Astral can decide whether to let him work through his nervousness himself or to tell him that there is no need to worry about the appropriate way to break his reading concentration anymore, Yuuma lets out a muffled “augh” and turns towards him, essentially shoving the box in his face.  
“Here!”  
Astral puts his book down, bookmark carefully slipped between its pages, and looks up at him.  
“Is this for me?”  
He had suspected it, with the way Yuuma had acted so strangely nervous for the past few minutes, but the concept is still a little alien. And assuming such a thing only to be proven wrong… the idea makes him slightly sick.  
“Of course it is! It’s your birthday, right?”  
He smiles faintly and reaches for Yuuma’s hands, taking them in his before taking hold of the box.  
“Who told you?”  
“Ninety-six. … well, kind of. He’s been boasting about his for two weeks. I think he thinks if he’s loud enough, people will get him presents just to shut him up.”  
The image and assessment of his brother’s personality make Astral laugh, a quiet happiness slipping into his face and thoughts after the nervousness of dealing with Yuuma’s unexpected present.  
“That is entirely possible, yes.”  
“So since you guys are twins–wait, I didn’t mess up, did I? You’re not like–those twins where one’s born before midnight and the other after–it wasn’t  _yesterday_ right?”  
“No, it’s today. You were right.” On impulse, he reaches for Yuuma’s hand again, squeezing it gently where it hangs at Yuuma’s side. “Thank you, Yuuma.”  
“I-it’s nothing. Just–why didn’t you tell me about it?”  
“… I’ve had no real reason to celebrate it until now. I did not forget about the date, but telling people about it isn’t something I thought of.” He smiles. “I’m grateful for this, though. It’s a nice change.”  
Yuuma nods, serious at first, then smiling brightly, a hint of a nervous laugh escaping him. He squeezes back.  
“Do you mind if I open it now?” Astral asks.  
“Oh–” He nods–and blushes slightly, to Astral’s surprise. “Yeah– I mean, no. Go ahead.”  
Letting go of Yuuma’s hand, Astral takes a better hold of the box, brushing the edge with his fingertips first before opening it.  
Inside, a pair of earrings lies, slightly tangled from what Astral assumes is having been carried in pockets or bags. He slides a finger under them to lay them flat against the foam again, feeling them run against his skin.  
It’s a small cascade of crystal beads with silver accents, delicate and surprisingly elegant, and Astral can’t quite believe they’re meant for him.  
“You said you’d gotten your ears pierced a while ago, right? I thought–it’s sad you don’t wear anything anymore. And I wanted to get you something  _pretty_. And they wouldn’t get in your way like a ring or bracelet would, yeah?”  
“They wouldn’t, no…” Astral starts, trying to gather his thoughts and think up a proper response. “… I only pierced my left ear… I’ll need to get the other one done…”  
“Oh.” Yuuma’s lips tighten a bit. “Sorry, I didn’t pay atten–”  
“Yuuma.” He looks up and smiles. “Thank you. They’re beautiful.”  
Yuuma nods, silently at first, then looking away with a slight pout.  
“It’s nothing big–I just thought they’d look good on you.”  
The smile on Astral’s face stretches, warm on his cheeks.  
“Why don’t you test that hypothesis yourself, then?”  
“Huh?”  
He turns his head and body slightly, bringing his ear into Yuuma’s reach.  
“Will you help me try it on?”  
In his peripheral vision, Yuuma turns even darker red than he already was.  
“I–yeah.”  
He moves closer, reaches for Astral’s face, then grimaces slightly.  
“Hold on, let me sit–”  
Astral makes room for him, moving slightly to the side so Yuuma can join him on the edge of the bed.  
“Is that better?”  
“Yeah.”  
Again, Yuuma’s hand reaches for the side of his face, and this time his fingers slip under Astral’s ear, almost cradling it, as he looks at it with surprising concentration. The brush of his fingertips against the back of Astral’s ear makes Astral shiver, and he sighs when they raise the lobe.  
“… okay, I can see it,” Yuuma says after a few seconds of observation. He reaches for the box with his other hand and plucks one of the earrings from it, fiddling with it for a bit before asking: “… how do I do this…”  
“Undo the little hook there. The ring will open.” He chuckles. “You’ll probably need both hands.”  
“Augh. Okay hang on a sec…” He lets go of Astral’s ear and fights with the ring, finally opening it right as Astral was about to ask if he needed help. “There.”  
His fingers return to Astral’s ear, the ring carefully pinched between the fingers of his other hand, and he holds his breath, trying to get the hooked end through the hole in Astral’s ear.  
It takes him a couple of seconds; the ring hooks inside Astral’s skin and starts sliding in, bringing a relieved sigh from Yuuma. He pushes it a little further through, tentatively, but pain suddenly shoots through Astral’s ear, making him bite his lips.  
“I–Astral, did I hurt you?” Yuuma asks, almost panicking, his fingers frozen on Astral’s ear.  
“It’s fine… I must have left it empty for too long…” He sighs, bringing the pain under control. “There’s nothing to be done about it, just keep going.”  
“Wh–you’re sure?”  
“I’m fine, Yuuma. It’s not going to last.”  
Yuuma gives a small upset hum, but brings his attention back to Astral’s ear and presses the earring further in, extremely careful in his movements. The hook sinks in, radiating more pain through Astral’s ear, but it only takes a second or two for it to come out through the other end, to Yuuma’s evident relief.  
“Okay. Okay. We’re good.”  
“Thank you, Yuuma,” Astral says with a smile.  
“N-no problem. Let me just–” he fiddles with it again and hooks the ring closed, finally pulling his fingers and hands back and pressing them down on his own lap. “You can move now.”  
The earring, when Astral tilts his head back to a straight position, weights subtly on his ear and falls almost to his shoulder, oscillating with the movement. He reaches behind it with his hand and pulls two fingers forward, letting it run over them and then fall. It tugs on his ear slightly when it does, and the weight feels strangely comfortable, anchoring, like Yuuma’s fingers had been earlier.  
Yuuma’s eyes, when he looks back up at him, seem to have been fixated on him, a faint blush tinting his cheeks.  
“… it looks good on you,” he finally says in a nervous mumble.  
“Thank you.” He leans forward slightly, sliding a hand behind Yuuma’s head, and presses a light but slightly lingering kiss to his cheek. “It’s a wonderful present.”  
He thinks he feels Yuuma’s cheek heat up even more, and Yuuma lets out a sigh, although whether it’s one of relief or pleasure, he isn’t sure.  
“You’re welcome,” Yuuma murmurs, before his face suddenly hardens with determination and he takes hold of Astral’s head, somewhat hastily, to kiss him back–on the lips, this time.  
No impending fight, no spells to prepare, no courage to gather from each other to withstand pain or mental pressure. Just the brush of lips and breath, and Yuuma’s hands gradually relaxing against the sides of his face, cradling rather than gripping.  
It’s a new experience, Astral thinks as he kisses back, but one he has no doubts he could get used to very fast.

Yuuma is smiling when he finally pulls back, shy but satisfied, and Astral smiles back, taking his hands in his own, rubbing his thumbs over the back of Yuuma’s hands.  
“… so did you get Ninety-six anything,” he finally asks after a few long moments of quiet hand holding. “He will be insufferable otherwise–no, nevermind that. He will be insufferable either way.”  
“–oh. Yeah. I got him some chocolates. I had to bribe him with a can of soda, too.”  
“Bribe him?”  
“Well, he was gonna show off with it, right? Especially to you–and I didn’t want him to ruin the surprise. So I said I’d get him a drink if he waited until you had yours.”  
Abruptly, Astral laughs.  
“You are better at reading people than you seem.”  
Yuuma squints.  
“Is that a compliment?”  
“Yes.” He shakes his head. “It’s no wonder he’s taken a liking to you–as unfortunate as that is.”  
“Y'know, he said something kinda similar.”  
“Hm?”  
“About you liking me. Something about ‘you hide your cards well,’ though I’m not sure how much of a compliment  _that_  is.”  
Astral sighs.  
“Coming from him, it probably is.”  
Yuuma lets out a laughing breath, then falls silent, almost contemplative. Astral waits for him to find his words.  
Finally, Yuuma squeezes his hands.  
“… hey, wanna do something tonight? Go out or something?”  
Astral’s head tilts.  
“It’s a week day, Yuuma. We would require a special permission slip to leave the school.”  
“Well yeah to leave the  _school_  but no one said we can’t leave the  _building_  right? We can stay in the gardens–or get on the roof. But it’s still warm enough for stargazing.” He smiles. “It’d be sad not to go while we still can, right? We could grab something hot to drink and stay up there a few hours.”  
The smile spreads on Astral’s face before he can control it.  
“That sounds wonderful.”


End file.
